Witches call it spells.
Christians call it prayer.
Buddhists call it One Taste.
Spiritualists call it manifestation.
Scientists call it the placebo effect.
Atheists call it happenstance.
Jung calls it synchronicities.
Philosophers call it Being.
Physicists call it the Observer Effect.
Poets call it inspiration.
Artists call it the muse.
Mystics call it gnosis.
Hippies call it vibes.
Hackers call it signal.
Psychologists call it flow state.
Economists call it animal spirits.
Lovers call it chemistry.
Gamblers call it luck.
And children—before they forget—just call it magic.
Everyone is arguing over its name.
No one is denying its existence.
It’s the force that bends probability around intention, that tunes the universe to attention when consciousness enters the room. You don’t summon it—you sync with it. That’s energy.
Civilization builds temples around it. Ideologies are quick to label it God. False prophets will package it up and sell it for a profit. The bodhisattva will dedicate their life to it. But it doesn’t belong to any of them. It belongs to the silence between your thoughts, the stillness between your breaths, the spark at the center of your darkness. Once you feel it, you’ve seen the universe blink back and you stop looking for it. You start listening instead.
